You Again, You Forever
by velja
Summary: Spike and Damon repeatedly run into each other. Yorkshire 1880, New York 1977, Los Angeles 2004 and Mystic Falls 2011. How many times will they have to fight before they realize that they could've spend the years in a much better way? Will be SLASH. Attention, this was partly rewritten and changed in 2013.
1. Yorkshire, 1880

**You Again, You Forever (Rewrite 2013)**

by velja

**Crossover** between the Buffy/Angel verse and The Vampire Diaries

**Pairing: **Spike/Damon

**Disclaimer:** I own neither Spike nor Damon or any of the other characters mentioned in here. Just playing with them. I promise to give them back once I'm done.

**_New Author's Note: _**_I started posting this story back in Summer 2010 and then I abandoned it. Now, a__fter watching TVD 4x17 "Because the night…" I suddenly felt the urge to revisit it. I was so happy to learn that Damon really was in New York in 1977 (like I wrote in here). So I spent an entire day rewriting this story. I changed quite a lot, so you'll be better off reading it all again. Also, I turned down the sex quite a bit. I didn't like the explicit character of this anymore. So you'll find it a bit more... tame. But the boys still get it on, no worries :-)  
_

_I picked canon moments from Spike's past (taken from Buffy & Angel) and tried to include Damon in them. And the other way around. So you should have a rough idea about what happened in canon in those situations I'm talking about, otherwise it will be hard to get the full experience._ _This started out as a one-shot to get over another writer's block. Then it grew and grew… and then I stopped writing. Sorry for that. But now I've polished old parts and I plan to add new ones someday until it is complete at last. Hope you enjoy the changes I made (and the rest)._

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**Chapter One**

**_Yorkshire, 1880 _**_(Scene mentioned in Buffy Episode 5x07 "Fool For Love")_

A small orange glow broke through the heavy clouds, signalling the slow approach of dawn as well as the end of the thunderstorm that had been going on for hours. The narrow and dirty cobbled streets were wet with rain and the lone figure making its way through them had to sidestep pools of muddy water every now and then, a low-growled curse falling from its lips with every squish-squash its wet boots made on the ground.

The sound rang heavy through the otherwise quiet and peaceful night.

"God damn it, I hate this place and I hate you, brother, for leading me here when I could've…"

Damon Salvatore stopped his angry tirade when the sudden sound of hurried footsteps and yelling reached his sensitive ears. He lifted his dark-haired head and listened. The noise was faint; no human ear would have picked up on it yet, but with his enhanced vampire-hearing Damon was able to make out the angry voices that slowly but steadily came closer.

"This way, come on! This way!"

"There he is, hurry! Hurry! He ran in there! John, Archie, that way round! Quick! We'll get him!"

"You hear that, you son of a bitch? We'll get you! We'll get you!"

Damon's mouth twisted upwards and an evil smirk grazed his handsome features. Whoever it was that this angry mob was chasing, the poor fellow's chances of surviving the night were growing slimmer and slimmer with each second that ticked by.

Because every inch the man gained on his pursuers was bringing him closer to the dark alley in which Damon stood, waiting.

Closer to death.

The smirk never leaving his face Damon quickly made his way over to a narrow gap in between the old buildings this part of the town hosted. If his hearing didn't betray him (and it never did) the hunted should reach the alley from Damon's left any minute now, the angry mob close but not too close behind.

The cries of rage had steadily grown and now Damon was able to hear the angry clinging of various weapons as well. A vivid image of raised pitchforks suddenly appeared in Damon's mind. Pitchforks and guns gleaming in the orange glow of torches held up high by the townspeople on the night they'd rounded up the vampires in Mystic Falls… the night he'd become what he was… the night Katherine had been…

No! Damon shook the unwanted memories from his head and tried to concentrate back on one set of footsteps alone. He blacked out the sound of the pursuers for now; they didn't concern him in the least.

By the time they'd make it to the alley Damon would long be gone, and the man they were chasing like prey with him.

Because now Damon had made him his prey, too.

Eyes trained on the spot where the man should appear, Damon stood stock-still, body rigid and ready to jump into action. Fast footsteps grew closer along with rapidly panted breaths, and then a small shadowy figure suddenly rounded the corner and ran into the gaping alley.

The man stopped just short of where Damon was hiding in the shadows and then, almost too quickly for Damon's eyes to follow, turned around on the spot. He was panting for breath and yet, instead of searching for a hiding spot like Damon had expected him to, he took on a fighting stance instead.

The man, about the same age as Damon had been when still human, was built rather short and slim and yet… Damon could see a certain strength lurking underneath the loose and shabby clothes. Every muscle in his body seemed coiled and tense, the jaw under his mop of tousled light brown hair was sharp and set, and although the too prominent cheekbones were giving him an almost angelic look the clear blue eyes gleamed dangerously as they were fixed on the mouth of the alley.

It was almost as if the young man was deliberately waiting for the angry mob to come for him.

'Huh,' Damon thought astonished, 'he's either really stupid, wanting to take on the crowd by himself, or really desperate and ready to die. Either way, works for me.'

And with that Damon jumped out of the shadows and in full vampire-speed rushed up to the man's back before he had time to notice him. Damon's arms closed around the slim form and, not breaking his speed, pulled the man with him out of the alley, around a corner or two, past several blocks of buildings and into another alley as abandoned as the one they'd come from.

The entire run hadn't taken more than a few seconds and yet, when Damon finally released his hold on the man and dumped him on the wet ground, they were so far away from the angry mob that no sound could be heard.

No sound apart from the ragged breaths and sputtered curses spilling from the man's lips, that is.

"Oh, sodding hell, what the… oh, bloody hell… what?"

In the blink of an eye the man was back on his feet and facing Damon with blazing blue eyes. He raised his fists, ready to attack, but then he seemed to become aware of their changed surroundings for the first time. Eyes flying around he took in the different buildings before he suddenly backed away a few steps, his back to a wall, and with his chin raised high glared at Damon once again.

"What the hell happened? Who are you? And how did you…?"

Damon smirked and merely raised an eyebrow at the man's flaring temper. It seemed like he'd gotten himself quite the spitfire here, huh? Damon's grin broadened. He liked it when his food put up a good fight instead of just succumbing to its fate, made the blood boil and taste so much better. Tinted with rage and fire… it went down smoothly, like the finest Whiskey but much more nourishing, and Damon loved it. He felt his fangs itching to come out and sink themselves into the pale neck he could see peeking out over the collar.

Damon took a step closer to where the man stood with his back against the wall and, cocking his head to the side, decided to have a little fun first. Willing his vampire-face away for now he chastised: "Now, is that any way to thank your saviour?"

"Savi…?" The young man's eyebrows shot up, clearly taken aback. "What the bloody hell are you on about? And who the hell do you think you are?"

Damon took another step closer. "Well, seeing that I'm the one who just saved you from being beaten to a pulp by an angry mob…" He suddenly used his vampire-speed to close the distance between them and pinned the man to the wall, single-handedly capturing his hands above his head while his other hand slowly closed around the man's throat. Damon smirked when he felt the futile struggling against his grip. He leaned forward and, face mere inches away, glared into the furious blue eyes.

"So, you should show a little bit of gratitude, don't you think?"

"Gratitude?" The young man choked out and then his lips twisted into a smirk so decidedly devilish that it matched Damon's. "Oh, I'll show you some gratitude, alright!"

His head suddenly shot forward and the forehead connected with Damon's chin. And although Damon had anticipated something like that he was completely taken aback by the brutal force behind the blow. He staggered backwards in shock (and not to mention in actual pain) and lost his hold on the other man in the process. Before he had the chance to utter a curse the man had pushed himself off the wall and was on him, one fist clenched in the front of Damon's shirt while the other came raining down on Damon's face repeatedly.

'What the hell?' Damon thought while he was trying to get his surprise under check long enough to get the man off him. 'How can this scrawny human be so strong?'

Damon threw his body to the side and then rushed at the man from behind. The force of his movement propelled them both against the opposite wall and Damon heard the satisfying crunch of the man's skull against the wall. But the blow that should have taken him out merely seemed to spur on the other man more.

With a growl of rage he threw his entire body backwards and down. Damon landed on the wet ground with the other man on top of him, struggling, groping, kicking out and even trying to bite any part of Damon he could reach. They rolled around on the ground, neither of them managing to hold the other down for long but not giving up either.

Fists flew into each other's faces, ribs, stomachs and groins and Damon could feel blood tickle down his face after a heavy punch had hit his nose. Damon had somehow managed to break the man's right arm, he'd heard the bones crush well enough under his hands. The man still didn't give up although his face had changed into a mask of pain and blood as well.

Suddenly Damon managed to get both hands around the man's neck and he was determined to twist the head off and simply be done with it. But before he had the chance the man was suddenly scrambling out of his hold again. He somehow reversed their positions and then Damon got a forceful kick right to where it hurt the most.

The man had slammed his boot full-force into Damon's groin and the vampire let out a pained cry and sagged onto his side.

Oh, damn, that hurt!

"Is that enough gratitude for you, mate?"

Something in the voice of the man, something very close to a growl, had Damon snap his head around to where the other man was standing in the shadows, leaned against the wall, almost casually, as if he was merely waiting for Damon to get up and come at him again.

"Or should I go on expressing some more?" The man's voice, despite the growling undertone, was almost taunting and Damon clenched his teeth in anger.

This son of a bitch was clearly starting to piss him off! He really should have let the angry mob of townspeople finish him off earlier. Would have saved him a lot of trouble. Not to mention the bloody nose and other bruises he was sporting now. Sure, the damage would be healed in no time, but… his pride on the other hand wouldn't. Damon Salvatore, evil predator and bad ass vampire, beaten by a mere human?

Damon slowly staggered to his feet and, wiping the blood from his nose, threw a dark glare at his opponent.

The man pushed his body away from the wall and, coming closer, threw a smirk back. He hadn't quite stepped out of the shadows yet but close. Close enough for Damon to suddenly notice…

"Your eyes," Damon gasped, voice nearly doubling over from shock. "Your face!"

Whereas before there'd been electrifying blue eyes in a sharp-angled face that Damon would have called handsome (if pressed), there were now suddenly piercing yellow orbs staring at him from under a prominently furrowed brow.

"Yeah, what of it?" The man, no… not a man, Damon was suddenly sure that this wasn't a human, he smirked around a mouthful of sharp fangs. "Never seen a true demon's face before, have you?"

It took Damon three stunned seconds to come to terms with what he was seeing. This was another vampire! Three seconds passed in which Damon didn't know if he should feel ashamed or relieved!

Ashamed that he hadn't realized it sooner or… relieved that he hadn't lost a fight against a mere human.

In the end Damon decided against both options. "Well," he drawled, "to answer your question: No, I've never seen a true demon's face before." Without much effort he willed his own demonic visage to the front and went on: "Not unless I've looked into a mirror, that is. Or into my brother's face."

"Bloody hell!" The other vampire was clearly as shocked as Damon had been before. He reeled back slightly before he took another step forward and stared at the dark veins under Damon's eyes. "What kind of demon are you?"

Damon frowned: "Huh? What do you mean, what kind of demon? I'm a vampire!" When he got nothing but a confused look in return Damon continued in a condescending manner: "Uh, you **do** know that there are different kinds of vampires, right?"

The confusion on the other vampire's face grew even stronger. "Different kinds?"

Damon rolled his eyes in annoyance. Now this was just great, wasn't it? Here he was, finally coming face to face with another vampire, the first one he'd ever encountered in all the sixteen years since he'd been turned (apart from Stefan but he didn't count, did he?) and this creature now seemed to know even less about their kind than he did.

"You're either an uncommonly stupid example of your kind," Damon stated and immediately got a heated "Hey, I'm not bloody stupid!" as a reply.

"Or you're simply too young to know a thing," Damon finished and without waiting for an answer walked over to lower his body onto the stone steps that led up to the entrance of the nearest building. He would never admit it out loud but his bones still ached, despite his vampire healing powers.

'Young he might be,' Damon looked up and watched the other vampire swagger over to sit down next to him. 'But he's clearly strong as well. And he's the first vampire I've met since…'

Damon had no idea what prompted him to do so but before he could change his mind again he cocked his head to the side and sent the other vampire his least malicious smirk.

"I'm Damon, by the way."

The other vampire stared at him for a second, obviously searching for any hidden threat. He must have found none in Damon's eyes, for eventually he held out his hand for Damon to shake.

"Name's Spike," he nodded.

Damon couldn't help but chuckle. "Spike? What kind of name is that?"

Spike released Damon's hand rather forcefully. "It's the name I got me for myself. Earned it for torturing my enemies with railroad spikes."

Damon raised an eyebrow in question and Spike went on: "Yeah, shoved them railroad spikes through their brains and such. Should teach them not to mock me ever again!"

"Oh, well," Damon was slightly impressed but didn't let it show. "If you feel the need to make a name for yourself… what do I care. You'll grow out of it."

"Look, mate," Spike groused and his blue eyes bore into Damon's equally blue ones. "You might be older than me, and true enough, I'm still fairly new to this whole creature of the night thing but that doesn't mean that you can look down on me, got it? Already got Angelus throwing it in my face every day. I don't need you to do so as well."

"Who's Angelus?" Damon couldn't stop asking.

"You've never heard of Angelus? The Scourge of Europe?"

"Scourge of Europe? No," Damon shook his head. "I haven't been here that long. Came from overseas just a couple of days ago in fact."

"You're from America?" Spike's eyes suddenly brightened in obvious interest. "Really?"

"Yes," Damon nodded. "Born and raised in Mystic Falls, Virginia. Why?"

Spike shrugged. "I'm just curious. I've never met anyone who isn't British. Apart from Angelus and Darla, I mean."

"Darla?" Damon asked immediately. "Who's Darla?" Just how many other vampires did this fledgling know? For it was clear to Damon that's what they were. Other vampires. Damon had wanted to meet others for so long now, maybe this was his chance…

Spike meanwhile continued low in his throat: "She's a right nasty bitch but she's also Angelus Sire. He goes where she goes and Dru goes where Angelus goes, so… I guess I'll just have to put up with her."

"Why?" Damon frowned again, really interested in learning more about vampire-lore and all that. Katherine had told him things of course, before he'd been turned and she'd been… well, but from the day he'd been turned it had been pretty much learning-by-doing.

There hadn't been anyone who could have taught him what being a vampire really meant. He (and Stefan with him) had been on his own from day one. And Damon couldn't imagine it any other way now. He faced Spike again and saw him look to the ground.

"I mean, can't you just, I don't know, leave? Make your own way?"

"And leave Dru with them?" Spike's head shot up. "Never! She's my, my destiny! My everything! I'd die for her over and over again if I'd have to. And she'd never… Angelus might be a big, thick-headed, full-of-himself, arrogant prick but he's Dru's Sire and she'd never leave him. As much as I know she loves me, her white knight, she'd never leave her Sire to be with me. Maybe if I were older, stronger… maybe I could make her choose me…"

Spike trailed off, eyes cast to the ground again, and Damon felt a sudden stab inside his body. A painful tug close to where his heart would be beating if he were still alive… it took him a moment to realize it for what it was: Sympathy!

Damon knew all too well what it was like. The knowledge that the woman you loved with all your heart didn't love you back the same unconditional way but held and would forever continue to hold a spot in her heart for someone else as well. His own brother! Oh, Damon knew about the pain Spike had to be feeling, the pain of knowing that she'd never be able to choose…

But even worse was the uncertainty, the gnawing feeling that maybe, one day, she'd finally make her choice… and it wouldn't be you.

Damon unconsciously let out a sigh. Thoughts like this wouldn't do. They were of no use, futile, because Katherine would never be able to choose. She'd never get the chance. Katherine was dead.

And Damon suddenly felt the old familiar rage boil inside of him again. Here was this stupid fledgling now, feeling sorry for himself because he had to share his woman with another man, while Damon would never be able to see Katherine again! Ever! She was dead!

Oh, he would readily agree to share Katherine with another man, even with his brother, if only she were alive. If only he'd be allowed to lay eyes on her again, see her again... if only for one last time!

But Damon couldn't ever see her again, Katherine was dead!

And so in his eyes no one had the right to be happily in love when Damon himself wasn't allowed happiness ever again! All he had left in his un-life was rage and anger… all Damon had left was Stefan and his promise to make it an eternity of misery for his brother, the one who'd condemned him to this fate.

Damon didn't notice the growl that slipped past his lips at the thought. But Spike heard and he threw a questioning look at the vampire by his side before his gaze suddenly fell onto something ahead of them.

A small patch of sunlight had crept across the wall opposite from where they'd been sitting for quite a while now, and it was steadily growing closer.

"Bloody hell," Spike exclaimed and jumped up from his seat. Damon lifted his head and watched the vampire pace back and forth in agitated strides.

"What is it," he frowned and listened for any sign of trouble coming their way. Maybe the angry mob of townspeople had finally caught up with them? He could hear nothing unusual though. "What?" Damon repeated and stood up as well.

Spike turned his head towards him briefly. Then his worried eyes flew up again. "Soddin' sun's nearly all the way up! Damn!"

"Oh," Damon let his eyes wander to the roof of the dark alley. And, true enough, he could make out a small sliver of orange among slowly travelling white clouds. The night had vanished nearly completely.

"The sun, right." Damon threw a quick glance at his right hand where the lapis lazuli gleamed in the ring Emily had given to him all those years ago. He brought his eyes back up again soon though, it wouldn't do to alert Spike to the fact that the sun coming up was no threat to him whatsoever.

"We should probably get going then, huh?" Damon stated. "You guys have a… a lair or something, right?"

"Yeah," Spike nodded absentmindedly, eyes still firmly on the sky. "Don't think I'll be able to make it there though. What about you?"

Damon thought about the small vessel that had taken him across the Atlantic only two days ago and that, after feeding on and killing the passengers and crew alike, he'd made his place to stay. It would do until he'd found his stupid brother.

"I got some place, too. It's not too far, so I think I can make it," Damon shrugged and, for a split second thought about offering Spike shelter for the day until he could make it back to wherever the rest of his… gang, was holed up. Before he knew it Damon heard himself say: "Do you want to…?"

He jerked his head in the direction of the harbour and waited for Spike to get his meaning. The younger vampire stared at him in silence, eyes blue and intense, but then he shook his head and sighed.

"Na, I should probably go find Dru. She worries if I'm not back by sunrise and I can't risk her go looking for me. The stars always tell her stupid things like that she can go out and such bollocks. So she sometimes forgets that she can't you know, not in daylight. And I can't count on Angelus or Darla holding her back every time. They ignore everything around them when they're at it like rabbits. And they're always at it these days, shagging like mad."

"Uh-huh," Damon stated with a raised eyebrow. Seemed like quite the crazy company Spike was keeping. A vampire forgetting that she couldn't go out in daylight? Who was that stupid?

Okay, so he had never been in the same situation, he'd never had to learn to remember not going out in the sun. He'd had his ring for protection from day one. Still…

Damon unconsciously played with the ring on his finger, but when he suddenly noticed what he was doing he let his hands sink to his sides and threw a quick look at Spike to see if the other vampire had noticed his gesture.

He should be more careful, shouldn't he? If another vampire were ever to find out his secret…

Although Damon was pretty certain that he'd be able to beat Spike, should he decide to fight him for the ring, he wasn't too keen on actually finding out for sure. Their earlier encounter had shown that Spike, despite his young vampire state, already was a force to be reckoned with. A few years of experience would shape him into an excellent, maybe even superior, fighter. If he survived that long, that is.

And Damon suddenly realized that he somehow wanted Spike to survive. He wanted the other vampire to live, to have a chance at making his own experiences with this, for him, new existence.

He wanted Spike to survive.

And, Damon realized with further astonishment, it wouldn't be too bad if he'd meet Spike again some day. Talk to him some more, get to know him, that would be fun. The thought put a smile onto Damon's face. Although any company other than his nuisance of a brother would be a welcoming change, Damon knew that he'd especially enjoy seeing this particular vampire again.

"So," Spike's voice pulled Damon out of his thoughts at last. "Guess I should get going." He cocked his head to the side, very much like Damon did himself, and held out his hand. "It was… nice meeting you, Damon."

"Likewise, Spike," Damon smirked and shook the offered hand. "Who knows," he added with a shrug of shoulders, "maybe we'll be seeing each other again soon. This town isn't very big after all, so I guess us creatures of the night are bound to run into each other sometime, somewhere, don't you think?"

A sudden gleam came to Spike's eyes at that and, still holding Damon's hand, he suddenly leaned closer to the other vampire until their faces were mere inches apart. "Why don't we make it sooner rather than later, huh? Tomorrow night? Same place? We could hunt together."

"Sounds good," Damon nodded surprised but pleased nevertheless. His lips twisted into a real smile. "See you tomorrow night then, Spike."

"Bloody right you are," Spike smirked and finally released Damon's hand. He threw a glare at the almost fully-lightened sky once again before he shrugged and started walking away, all the while keeping his body close to the wall, careful not to catch a stray sunbeam.

When he'd reached the alley's entrance he turned his head and nodded at Damon once again. Damon nodded back silently and then he watched Spike sprint away in a rush.

The faint cry of reckless youth that Spike had let out in joy still reverberated in Damon's sensitive ears long after the other vampire had vanished from his sight.

And it was also the last thing that Damon heard or saw from Spike for a long time because the next night, when Damon rushed to the alley, eager to meet him, Spike wasn't there.

Damon waited almost the entire night, the unfamiliar feeling of worry gnawing inside of him with every hour that passed without Spike showing up.

Damon only left once the sun was high up in the sky, still worried but also disappointed and angry with himself for even allowing himself to feel such things, and vowed to himself to **not** care.

Nevertheless Damon came back the next night, and the night after that, and the night after that… and after the fifth night worry turned into annoyance, then into anger, and when two weeks had passed without hair or fang of Spike, the feeling inside Damon was nothing short of hate. Then he remembered that he wasn't supposed to care at all. He got drunk and tried to feel nothing. And eventually it worked.

Spike never showed.

And Damon left town, then the country altogether shortly after that, and never looked back.

He buried his feelings in booze and women and tried to forget he'd ever met Spike. And it worked, almost, for nearly one hundred years.

It worked until one rainy night in 1977.

The night he met Spike again.

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**TBC**

_So please tell me what you think so far, okay?_


	2. New York City, 1977

**You Again, You Forever **

**Chapter Two**

_Here's the next part of Spike's and Damon's odyssey through the years and this is the chapter in which I made the most changes to what I'd posted before. I didn't much like what I had before. This is better (I hope you think so, too)._

_ The first chapter was written in Damon's POV alone and I tried to change that in here, so you'll get to hear Spike's side as well. But most of the story will still be told from Damon's POV, but set in Spike's canon situations that we know from the show. So you may pretend that, after every encounter with Damon, Spike goes on living his life the way we saw it on Buffy or Angel._

_For this chapter I took the location as well as some dialogue from Buffy Episode 7x17, "Lies my parents told me", one of my favourite Spike episodes. It belongs to Joss & Co._

_And, as known from TVD episode 4x17 "Because the night…", it's confirmed that Damon was indeed in New York in 1977. I can't tell you how happy it made me to learn that. So of course I had to use some of what we saw in that episode in here as well.  
_

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**_New York City, 1977_**

Damon was having a pretty good life. A while ago he'd stopped pursuing his pathetic little brother wherever he went, letting up on the promise to make his life living hell, and had instead travelled up and down the east coast for the last few decades. He knew Stefan was in Mystic Falls right now, probably with Lexi the do-gooder, and he absolutely didn't care.

Instead he enjoyed his life of snatch-eat-kill and where better to find lots and lots of people no one would miss than in the city that never sleeps? So Damon had come to New York three weeks ago. And the Big Apple with all its buzzing allures had quickly drawn him in (not to mention the countless bars and night clubs where girls were easy and boys even more so). Damon couldn't remember a place where he'd been able to come by drinks, food and sex as easily and frequently as in New York.

The last three weeks had been a real treat; Damon had been constantly high on the sweet blood of college girls (and the occasional college boy), who offered themselves freely and were keeping him satisfied in more ways than one.

Most nights Damon hung out at "Billy's", a bar that not only offered good music and a fine choice of drinks, but also attracted just the right kind of people. People who'd readily fall for Damon's charms and so were making his life easy.

Damon had really come to like New York, and on the rare occasion that the city's crowded confinements bothered him, he liked to escape into the wide natural space the Central Park provided. It had quickly become his favourite outside place. And it even offered tasty meals as well.

Many times Damon had strolled around the seemingly naturally-growing green, very much like he was doing now, always on the lookout and not even in need of doing so, because drunk or lonely people were stumbling his way wherever he went. They were even falling from trees occasionally.

Not tonight, though.

Tonight large parts of the park were empty and abandoned due to the heavy thunderstorm that had been going on for hours. Trees, lawns and benches, everything around Damon was drenched in rain and so was he.

Water dripped from his leather jacket, his black jeans and boots were soaking wet and his dark hair was plastered to his head. It had begun to curl over his ears and at the nape of his neck again although Damon kept it rather short these days. But rain had always brought out its more wavy nature, something only he, and not Stefan, had inherited from their mother (along with the pair of piercing blue eyes).

In a weather such as tonight Damon would have usually long since left the park in favour of finding shelter, booze and blood somewhere else. Any bar would do, or even better yet, any human that would easily fall for his charms and take him back to their place. There he would be able to get rid of his wet clothes; it's not as if he needed them for the things he had in mind, right? And by the time he'd be done with fucking and feeding alike, his jeans should have dried again anyway.

So why wasn't he? Why was he still walking through the rain like some idiot too dumb or too stoned to go some place dry?

Damon didn't know what it was that had him walking along the gravelled paths of Central Park this night; there was just something, some foreboding…

Suddenly a sense of dark excitement gripped him from behind so strong and intense that Damon thought for a second he'd been slapped on the back. He spun around on his feet and stared through the pelting rain but there was nothing. Nothing but the raging storm going on all around him.

Damon let out an annoyed sigh. What the hell was wrong with him?

And then he heard it.

There was the sudden sound of a fight in the distance and it made him stop in mid-stride. Damon could make out fists flying and connecting with wet splashing noises on drenched bodies. He heard two sets of heavy boots shuffling on the ground in almost perfectly executed moves… and above all that there was something else.

There was a voice.

"Well, all right! Got the moves, don't you? I wanna ride you hard before I put you away, love."

The taunting words overrode the rain and the distance easily and pierced Damon's hearing as if they'd been shouted into his ear from a mere inch away.

It couldn't be, could it? He knew that voice! And the accent…

Damon turned in the direction the sounds were coming from and waited for the voice, **that **voice, to speak again. But only a woman answered in slightly panted breaths:

"You sure about that? You actually look a little wet and limp to me." A punch and a kick from her opponent were obviously parried with ease before she added angrily: "And I ain't your love!"

Panted growls erupted when both fighters charged each other at the same time again. Damon listened, then he started off through the rain towards where the noises were steadily coming from: one of the countless bridges scattered around the park.

Damon sprinted across the soaked lawn, ears constantly trained on the sounds of fighting, and neared the foot of the bridge in the matter of seconds. He jumped up in one swift move and, due to the mud that by now clotted his boots, came to a skittering halt on one end of the concrete bridge. Hidden from the fighters' view by some bushes Damon stared ahead at the scene, not sure if he should truly trust his eyes.

Could it really be true? Was this… Spike?

Damon watched the two figures throw punches back and forth while he tried to compare the fuzzy memory he had of Spike from nearly a hundred years ago with the vampire he was seeing now.

He closed his eyes and dug up the picture from the last corner of his mind. Shorter-than-average height, slim form covered by shaggy clothes, light-brown wavy hair, blue eyes and cheekbones to die for… that's what Damon remembered Spike to look like.

He couldn't for the life of it find one piece of that image in the vampire he saw now. And not because he had his vamp-face to the front now. Bleached-blond hair, short and sticking up in some kind of punk-style, washed-out torn blue jeans, a leather jacket in biker style with some kind of ripped black shirt underneath, biker-boots, a leather cord around his neck and some kind of needle piercing his left eyebrow. It accentuated the angry scar that cut the eyebrow and that Damon didn't remember being there before…

This guy now was a punk!

If it hadn't been for the taunting voice he'd heard earlier Damon would never have recognized Spike. Okay, no… that wasn't quite true. Though the vampire had changed very much in his looks, the wild ferocity in which he fought was still the same.

Whether it'd be against all odds and with his back to the wall or, like now, clearly superior to his opponent, all fists and fangs and taunting jibes… Spike fought with abandon and enjoyed every minute of it. He fought with all his heart.

Chasing the strange thoughts away Damon focused his attention back on the two figures ahead of him. He realized with a start that the fight had suddenly come to a rather bad end for the woman.

Spike was holding her in a death grip from behind, his entire body pressed to her back. She had her head tilted to the side, but not out of free will but rather out of pain from having her arm twisted in an unnatural angle.

Time seemed to have stopped and Damon expected Spike to lean in and sink his fangs into the woman's neck… when suddenly the sound of a nearby dustbin falling over distracted the vampire enough to turn his head (make that vampires, plural, for Damon looked over as well and noticed a small boy cowering behind a park bench).

The woman used that moment of distraction to twist out of Spike's grasp. She threw a row of well-placed kicks, flipped Spike over and put some distance between them. Then she suddenly pulled a stake from her long leather coat and threw it straight at the vampire's heart.

Damon, unconsciously sucking in his breath, was about to shout out some kind of warning when Spike's hands shot out and stopped the stake in mid-air, a few inches short from penetrating its goal.

"I spent a long time trying to track you down," Damon heard Spike drawl. "Don't really want the dance to end so soon, do you, Nikki?"

The woman, Nikki, merely glared back in silence. Spike threw the stake to the ground and it rolled over the wet concrete until it came to a stop at her feet.

"The music's just starting, isn't it?" Spike threw her a smirk and then jumped onto the low stone balustrade. One hand curled around a lamppost he let his eyes travel over her leather-clad body for the last time.

"By the way," he smirked. "Love the coat."

Then he let go of the lamppost and, with the languid grace of a panther, jumped off the bridge onto the muddy ground below.

Damon stepped out of the bushes and threw a quick look at the woman. She'd by now walked up to the bench and the small boy came slowly creeping out from under it. Damon briefly thought about finishing her off but then…

No, the fight Damon had just witnessed had made it clear that killing her would take a lot longer than the five seconds he usually needed. And by the time he'd be done with her (for Damon was sure that he **could** take her, just like Spike could and surely would some day), he'd have lost Spike's scent in the ongoing rain.

And that was something Damon wasn't willing to risk.

He was determined to follow Spike, to track him down and to finally, after ninety-seven years, confront him again.

Damon hadn't thought about Spike in a long time but, he realized now, he'd never completely forgotten this particular vampire. He couldn't say why exactly but then again, Damon had never been one for introspection. He didn't care why Spike seemed to intrigue him so much, he simply knew that he did. And that was enough for Damon.

He put a smirk onto his face and, not sparing another look at the woman and her child, jumped off the bridge to follow Spike. Despite the rain his scent hung fresh in the air and Damon was able to follow it easily through the night.

Oh yeah, confronting Spike after a hundred years would be fun.

Maybe he'd even kill him.

Something twisted inside Damon's chest at the thought and it took him by surprise. What was that? Guilt? Regret? Remorse?

Damon wasn't so sure and he didn't want to look too closely right now, but whatever it was… Damon would sure as hell find a way to deal with it.

But first, he'd find Spike.

* * *

Spike knew that he was being followed.

He'd noticed it quickly after his fight with the Slayer. But he wasn't too concerned about it right now because, hell, he could take on whatever or whoever it was now, couldn't he?

Bloody right he could, he was William the Bloody!

Still exhilarated and high from the first round he'd just danced with that Nikki Spike felt like nothing could get the best of him ever again.

She'd fought very differently to the Slayer Spike had bested in China all those years ago, he could have danced all night with this one. She had so much more spunk and fire. She didn't take shit from him but had taunted him back, teased him and had made the prospect of finally taking her so much sweeter.

And take her he bloody would!

'But not yet,' Spike grinned and adjusted the bulge his jeans. She'd made him so bloody hard that the mere thought of actually taking her, sinking into her with both cock and fangs alike, was nearly enough to send him over the edge.

He'd have to find some kind of outlet for all that pent-up energy, wouldn't he?

So, whoever it was that was trailing him now through the rainy night, he or she should better prepare themselves for being shagged six ways to Sunday right here on the muddy ground of Central Park.

Spike took his time walking along the footpath, ears on the barely-there footsteps from behind while his eyes stayed ahead, and he spotted a low bridge crossing his path in a round and tunnel-like opening.

Perfect.

He walked through but instead of following the path on the other side he quickly jumped up high and crouched on top of the bridge, hands on the edge and waited for his follower to come into view.

Well, that's at least how the plan had played out in his head before it was blown to pieces.

Because the second Spike crouched down on the stone bridge something came suddenly jumping onto his back from behind and the force of the hit had both of them tumble over the edge and into the mud below.

"Bloody hell," Spike growled and tried to get on his feet again.

A strong fist connected with his jaw and Spike actually saw stars for a second. He didn't have time to wonder about that though because he was thrown onto the ground and then a body like steel was on top of him, pressing his hips into the ground and holding his hands locked above his head.

"Hello Spike," a smirking voice drawled and Spike, shocked into stunned immobility by immediate recognition of that voice, shouted out once again.

"Bloody hell!"

"I see your vocabulary hasn't changed much over the years," Damon's smirk grew even wider.

"Damon?" Spike's voice was full of surprise and he stared at the vampire sitting on top of him open-mouthed.

It couldn't be, could it?

"Bloody hell," Spike let out for the third time. "It's you again!"

"Yes, it's me," Damon rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Are you done with gaping like a fish or should I give you another minute?"

"I'm bloody done," Spike struggled on the muddy ground but Damon didn't loose his grip on him. "Now get off of me before the leather gets all ruined. Come on, I'm all sodden!"

Damon wouldn't budge. "Why would I? I happen to like this position. Perfect for tearing your head off, don't you think?"

"Yeah, right. Tearing my head off" Spike scoffed. "Not bloody likely!"

And with that he managed to wriggle out of Damon's grasp. He flipped both of them over and pressed Damon to the ground instead.

Damon let out a growl and his vampire-face came to the front. Spike suited up moments later, fangs peeking out of the corners of his mouth due to the evil grin on his face.

"See, it's not so much fun with mud creeping up your pants now, is it?" Spike pushed his hips down for emphasis so that Damon's body would sink even deeper into the dirt. He realized all of a sudden that his cock, still hard from the exhilarating fight earlier, grazed along Damon's equally firm length in the process and raised an eyebrow.

'Well, well,' he thought surprised. 'What do we have here then? He's either really getting off on being covered in mud or…'

"Huh, seems like someone's rather happy to see me, huh?" Spike drawled and threw a pointed look at Damon's crotch.

Damon didn't comment but broke out of Spike's grip, closed one hand around the vampire's throat and squeezed hard. At the same time he bucked his hips and threw Spike over his head.

Both vampires were back on their feet in a heartbeat, facing each other and then, in a blur of movements, flew at each other again. They clawed at each other's clothes, feet kicking out repeatedly, but neither managed to get the advantage over the other for long. They were both soaked to the bone from the ongoing rain and the leather of their jackets was slick and slipped through their fists whenever one of them tried to get a stronger grasp.

Spraying mud everywhere they danced around in circles for what could have been minutes or hours, both too engaged in the fight to actually count the time.

But eventually Spike was beginning to get tired of this pointless dance. Neither of them was going to get the upper hand any time soon and besides, why were they fighting anyway? The first shock of seeing Damon again after nearly a hundred years had slowly made way for a feeling of… he didn't know if he'd dare to call it joy but it sure as hell was something pleasant.

Deep down inside Spike knew what it was he was feeling: he was simply glad that Damon had survived all those years.

He'd never forgotten this vampire, the first one of a slightly different but no less powerful kind he'd ever met, and he'd always hoped to run into him again one day. And as strange as it was for Spike to acknowledge this, now that they'd finally met again he'd much rather sit and talk to Damon again instead of going around in useless circles.

So eventually Spike began to merely deflected Damon's assaults without returning attacking blows in the hope that the other vampire would tire of the fight as well.

"Listen, mate," Spike panted and glared at Damon. "Would you lay off for a bit already? This isn't going anywhere, and… I don't see why you're so bloody pissed at me anyway!"

"Who's to say I'm pissed at you, huh?" Damon straightened up and stroked some wet curls out of his face. "Maybe I just don't like you, ever thought of that?"

They were both standing opposite each other under the bridge now and Spike took a step back to lean his body against the stone walls. He groped around his pockets and pulled a battered and wet pack of cigarettes complete with a silver lighter out of it.

He stuck one between his smirking lips and in lighting it, smirked back: "Actually, no. That thought never crossed my mind. You gave off a whole different vibe back when we first met, remember? With the curious chatting and all that."

"What," Damon scoffed with a raised eyebrow. "You mean our little 'hunting date' in Yorkshire to which you never showed? You think I care? Don't flatter yourself, I don't."

"Could have fooled me," Spike rolled his eyes and puffed a blow of smoke through drawn-up lips. Then he shrugged: "Whether you care or not, it wasn't my bleedin' fault that I never showed. I wanted to but…"

"Oh, but let me guess," Damon mocked and took a step forwards. "One of your precious Sires or whatever told you off for wanting to run with the cool kids instead of sticking to your own sandbox! And of course little Spike did what he was told by mummy and daddy and went back to play with his own toys!"

Spike, never having been the most patient vampire, had to close his eyes and count to ten in order to not raise to the bait and clock the other vampire for mocking him. He had no clue why but Spike knew he needed to explain himself.

He didn't own Damon any explanation, and still…

Spike took a deep breath and glared at Damon. "No, I didn't show up because I was trapped in a bloody mind shaft for two weeks straight and Angelus had me nearly starving to death!"

"Huh?" Okay, that somehow got Damon's attention.

"Yeah," Spike went on while pacing back and forth. "Angelus had us all holed up in a mind shaft because he was too chicken to take on the crowd."

He threw a quick look at Damon and noticed that his words had made Damon listen curiously. So he went on: "Remember the crowd that came after me that night? Well, it found us again the next day and instead of taking them on like I knew we could have, Angelus decided we should run and hide instead! Like some bloody scared rabbits! Of course I tried to get away but he beat me down the first three or four times. And when that didn't take for long he tied me up in a corner and let me starve while he got it on with both Darla and my Dru! He kept on shagging my dark princess into the bloody mattress, right before my very eyes, and… you know the worst part?" A pained expression ran over Spike's face when he looked up at Damon.

"She got off on it, too! My Dru, she liked the way Angelus fucked her over and over with me being forced to watch! God, how I hated the bastard back then!"

Damon didn't know what to say in return, his mind suddenly occupied with the painful memory of seeing Katherine with Stefan back when he'd still been human. He'd only ever caught them kissing, not more than a fleeting lip-lock really, and that alone had been enough to set him off back then. He'd been in a real frenzy and had taken Stefan to task by means of his fists.

It had been the first time in his life that Damon had ever wanted to truly hurt his little brother. The first time he'd fought him for real (and not in some playful brotherly banter) with the intent of actually killing him.

Damon could only imagine how it would have hurt if he'd ever been forced to watch Stefan and Katherine in bed together. He'd known about it, sure. But actually witnessing it? The pain would have been… too much. Unbearable.

So, yeah. He knew what Spike was talking about, he knew about the pain and humiliation that seeing the love of your life with another man evoked inside.

"So, anyway," Spike's voice pulled Damon out of his thoughts at last. "That's why I didn't show. But I wanted to. And, well, a few years later we came over here, to the States, and I remembered you saying you're from Virginia. So I started looking and I found that town of yours but you weren't there…"

Damon stared at Spike. "You went to Mystic Falls?"

Spike merely shrugged.

Damon didn't know what to say. He kept staring at the vampire's face, he took in his clear blue eyes, the high cheekbones and the slim form, and suddenly felt the slight stirring of arousal. That wasn't anything new, Damon was horny most times these days, but somehow being aroused by this vampire now had him all confused. So he did the only thing he could think of, he covered it behind his well-worn mask of smugness.

"Well, as fascinating as this little tale of yours is," Damon smirked and started walking away. "I have better things to do now. So…"

"Better things like stalking me again?"

"What?" Damon turned around and faced Spike.

"Hadn't thought I'd noticed you following me ever since I ended that dance with the Slayer, huh? Well, I did." Spike sauntered up to him. "What I don't know is why. Are you after bagging yourself a Slayer as well? Cause, let me tell you, this one's mine."

Damon frowned at Spike. "Slayer? You mean that girl you fought?"

"Of course I mean her," Spike stated forcefully. "She's mine for the taking. I've killed one before and I'm gonna bag me this one as well. So… hands off, all right?"

"Like I care what you say," Damon scoffed. "I kill her if I want to. Nothing you can do about that!"

"No?" Spike closed the distance between them in a heartbeat and gripped Damon's front to pull him even closer.

"Get off me," Damon threatened. He tried to push Spike away but the other vampire didn't budge but pulled Damon even closer. Their chests were touching and Damon could feel his dick starting to respond to the closeness.

"What if I don't?" Spike's voice wasn't more than a low purr.

"You're gonna regret it," Damon growled back.

Spike could feel Damon's arousal and, damn, he was hard again. Whether it was the talk about the Slayer that had done it or simply Damon… he didn't know and didn't care. He needed to do something about it.

Spike pushed forward and stared straight into Damon's face. "Oh, I doubt that," he drawled and started walking them both backwards. "I think I can deal with anything you dish out." Damon let himself be pulled along willingly, too stunned by the sudden change in Spike's manor.

The air around them seemed to suddenly be made of tension and when they reached the tunnel under the bridge again and Spike pushed him back against the stone wall Damon thought he'd suffocate on the thick air of underlying tension. He lifted his hands and placed them on Spike's hips.

"Anything?"

The other vampire had his hands still fisted in Damon's jacket but now his grip loosened and a suggestive smirk curled around his lips.

"Anything. Bring it on, mate. I take it."

And that was enough for Damon.

With a low growl he suddenly gripped the slender hips more tightly and turned both of them around on the spot to slam Spike against the wall. He leaned close, his entire body pressed up to the slightly smaller one, and for a split second simply stared into the blue eyes. Then his mouth crashed down onto Spike's waiting lips.

Both vampires let out a groan at the first contact.

Spike matched Damon's intensity piece by piece, he pulled the other vamp even closer and sparks flew off behind Damon's eyelids when they kissed again.

Neither of them needed to come up for air and so their mouths never parted. Not even when Damon suddenly pulled Spike away from the wall and threw them both to the ground. Not caring about the mud underneath he covered Spike from head to toe and pressed himself close.

Tongues chased and fought each other for dominance, hands tried to grope everywhere at once, and finally they managed to tear each other's clothes apart so that they could feel cold naked skin under their touch.

They were both nearly overwhelmed by the feeling of rippling muscles, they growled and panted into each other's mouths, kisses hot and brutal, movements rough and hard and becoming more vicious the closer they got to blissful release. Soon it was too good, too much.

Both Damon and Spike tried to keep their human features to the front for as long as they were able to, but eventually it all became too much.

Unable to suppress their natural urges any longer both vampires let their true faces appear. Yellow eyes met dark ones outlined by black veins and they tore their mouth apart at last. In unison their fangs ripped into each other's throats, drawing blood, and the sudden sweet taste sent them both tumbling over the edge.

And what an edge it was!

Damon yelled in shock and Spike didn't fare much better, he let out a surprised cry. Neither of them had ever experienced anything so powerful and stars exploded behind their closed eyelids.

They pulled their fangs out at the same time and Damon, with a groan at the sweet taste coating his lips and tongue, rolled over and collapsed to Spike's left.

He closed his eyes and tried to stop his body and mind from shutting down completely. He felt like every bone in his body had suddenly melted and at the same time lightning flashes of awareness soared through his head.

He'd never felt like this before.

"Oh, bloody hell," Spike panted out beside him and Damon turned his head. Very reluctantly he opened his eyes. "I second that. I can't believe... I never knew…"

Spike craned his neck to throw him a frown. "Knew what, mate?" His voice sounded drowsy and far away.

"That it could be like this," Damon admitted quietly. "Feeding from another vampire while... I've never…"

"You've never been with another vampire?" Spike couldn't believe it.

"Of course I've been with another vampire," Damon rolled his eyes. "I was with Katherine of course, but that doesn't really count. I was still human. And afterwards…" Damon thought for a moment and suddenly remembered something. Someone. "There was Sage back in 1912, but with her it was nothing like this. It was… less."

"Yeah," Spike nodded in understanding. "I get it. I've shared blood and sex quite a few times, mate, but this… this connection? Not what I remember."

Damon was quiet for a while. Spike was right, there had been something… different. Some kind of connection on a subconscious level, an awareness of sorts… even now, minutes later, Damon could still feel it in his head, in his bones, everywhere. He could feel Spike, like a presence in his mind. Like… some kind of mind-link. And frankly, it creeped him out a bit. But at the same time… he'd never felt so good in his life.

He turned and stared at Spike from the side. "What do you think it means?"

"I don't know," Spike gestured around with his arms, obviously at a loss and annoyed by it. "Maybe you did it wrong."

That earned him a punch on the arm. "Ow! Alright, maybe **we** did it wrong."

"I don't know. Didn't feel wrong to me."

A human wouldn't have heard Damon's comment, his voice barely above a whisper. But Spike heard and nodded. "Didn't feel wrong to me either." He let out a long satisfied sigh. "Felt bloody great."

"I know," Damon smirked and hoisted himself up on one elbow. His right hand began to trace a soft lazy pattern on Spike's chest. "I feel like my whole body is truly alive for the first time!"

Spike followed the movement with his eyes before he lifted his gaze up to Damon again. "Your whole body?" He pulled the other vampire closer and stroked a hand up his thigh. "Mind if I check for myself?"

Damon's answer was a low moan and so Spike wasted no time. He did check for himself again. And again.

* * *

Spike was roused from his impromptu nap (it hadn't been more than a quick nap, right?) by the smell of sizzling bacon.

Wait, bacon? Why would someone roast bacon in the middle of the night in Central Park? It wasn't anywhere near barbecue season yet, was it? And the smell wasn't exactly that of bacon, it was more…

"Oh bugger!" Spike's eyes flew open at once when a searing pain suddenly ran through his right hand and arm. He was burning up! The sun had risen and…

"Bloody buggering hell," the vampire exclaimed and scrambled to his feet. Okay, he wasn't exactly burning, there were no flames yet, but the smoke emanating from where the sun had hit his sensitive naked skin indicated that if he didn't find shelter immediately he'd end up nothing but a big pile of dust.

Searching around for his stray clothes Spike's frantic gaze suddenly fell onto the still sleeping naked form by his side.

"Damon," Spike shouted and briefly kicked the other vampire's ribs before he threw himself deeper into the safe shadows under the bridge. "Hey, get up, mate! Bloody hell, Damon! Get up!"

The tunnel was low enough that rays of sunlight wouldn't make their way into it any time soon but if Damon wouldn't wake up soon…

"Damon!"

When there was still no reaction coming from Damon, Spike didn't hesitate but picked up a pebble from the ground and threw it at the vampire's chest. Why wasn't he waking up for god's sake? He couldn't be dead, right? Well, of course he was dead but… he couldn't be more dead, could he? Spike threw another stone, a bigger one, and this time it landed right in Damon's face and bounced off his nose.

"Ouch!" Damon complained and shot up into a sitting position. He rubbed his hurt nose and glared around. Furious blue eyes fell onto Spike's wide opened ones. "What the hell did you do that for?"

Spike didn't reply. He couldn't, for he was far too busy staring at Damon. The vampire's upper body was fully exposed to the sun, his head and chest were bathed in it and yet…

No bursting into flames. Not even the least bit of smoke rose from where the sun hit Damon's body.

"Why are you not on fire?" Spike's voice was dangerously low.

"Huh?" Damon seemed to have trouble following Spike's train of thought but eventually he realized what the other vampire was getting at. "Oh, uh…"

"Uh?" Spike watched Damon stand up and grab his jeans from the ground. He quickly ripped his own pants over his legs and waited for Damon to say something. Anything. Explain himself somehow.

How could it be that a vampire was able to walk around in daylight?

Damon snatched his shirt from the ground and while shrugging into it he tried to come up with a plausible explanation.

"Oh, I guess you didn't know then that my kind isn't affected by sunlight like yours, huh?" Damon winced inwardly at his own words. Spike would never fall for that crap, would he?

"Is that right?" Spike cocked his head to the side and studied Damon's now dressed form from head to toe.

"Of course it is," Damon smirked and walked over to where Spike stood under the bridge. "I am the living proof of that, am I not? Okay, not so much living but you get my… hey!"

As soon as Damon had come over Spike had grabbed the vampire by the shirt, pulled him forward and smashed him into the stone wall of the tunnel.

"That's bollocks and you know it!" Spike growled, face only inches away from Damon's. "You're lying! I'm not some stupid fledgling that you can fool with this crap! So, Damon, tell me how you don't burn in the sun and tell me quick before I decide…"

Damon's head shot out and connected hard with Spike's forehead. The blond vampire reeled back and lost his grip on him in the process.

"Before you decide what, Spike? What are you gonna do to me, huh?" Damon scoffed and, to rub it in some more, stepped back into the broad daylight. He stretched his arms wide aside and threw a grin up into the clear blue morning sky.

"Hhmm, isn't it a wonderful day? All sunny and warm. Perfect for a morning stroll in the park. I think I'm gonna catch me a jogger for breakfast." He started walking backwards, eyes never leaving Spike's fuming face. "Wanna join me, Spike? Oh, sorry, I forgot! You can't! Too bad!"

Damon flashed him another smirk and then turned on his heels.

He hadn't made it more than three steps along the footpath when Spike suddenly jumped at his back with a growl.

The force of the impact drove both vampires forward and onto the ground. Thankfully enough for Spike they came to land in the shadows under a tree.

"Are you insane?" Damon rolled onto his back and stared at Spike. "Get out of the sun!"

The blond vampire had quickly crawled deeper under the tree and now, sitting with his back against the trunk, grinned back cockily.

"Careful there now, luv. Someone might think you care!"

Damon's eyes narrowed when he sat up as well. For a split second something crossed his face, an emotion Spike couldn't name and Damon wouldn't want to, ever. But then the mask of cool indifference was firmly back in place.

"I hate to break it to you but a single night of fucking doesn't make me your love, Spike."

Spike cocked his head to the side as if to reply something, but then he simply shrugged and put a cigarette between his lips. Then he held the pack out to Damon.

"Want one?"

Damon eyed first Spike and then the offered smokes with a look as if he was contemplating whether something might jump out of it. He took his time taking one. When Damon had placed it between his lips Spike held out the lighter and Damon instinctively leaned closer to reach the small flame.

Their shoulders brushed. Both vampires looked up at the same time, their blue eyes locked in an intense gaze.

Neither said anything though but inhaled the welcoming smoke and turned their heads back to look straight ahead. They kept on sitting there under the tree, neither of them willing to break the companionable silence, and watched the Central Park slowly come to life.

Jogging and walking humans passed, a dog or two came sniffing through the bushes, and slowly but steadily around them the air filled with the usual noises announcing a brand new day in New York City.

Damon and Spike sat there in the shadows, smoking and throwing glances at each other once in a while, and didn't say a word for what seemed like hours.

* * *

_And we said nothing will make us change_

_In any way_

_Since yesterday we're just the same_

_Since yesterday nothing has changed_

_Since yesterday we're just the same_

_But I can feel there's this new kind of hunger inside_

_To be satisfied_

_I saw it there last night_

* * *

They left the Central Park a few hours later when the sun had suddenly vanished behind thick clouds that would bring another thunderstorm soon. Neither of them said much, it seemed they were both preoccupied with thoughts about what the hell had happened last night. Spike led Damon through the streets of Manhattan and ducked into an entrance of an obviously abandoned building.

"This is where I've made myself at home. Well, for now." He shrugged casually. "Wanna come?"

"Sorry." Damon took an uncomfortable step back. "Got things to do, people to kill, you know?"

"Oh, sure," Spike drawled around his cigarette, "well then…"

Damon watched Spike and suddenly realized that he didn't want this to be the end. Not yet. He had no idea what had happened last night but... this couldn't be the end. So without another thought he moved and grabbed Spike's arm.

"How about tonight? We could, you know... hit a bar or something?"

Spike's eyes travelled from the hand on his arm to Damon's face. Then he grinned. "Sure. There's a bar right around the corner. Good drinks, even better waitresses. See you there? At ten?"

Damon confirmed with a nod and once again watched Spike turn around.

"You still owe me an explanation for why you don't burn in the sun, you know that, right?" Spike threw over his shoulder.

"I'll think of something convincing," Damon smirked back and started walking away. "See you tonight, Spike."

"Tonight, mate," Spike's grin turned even brighter when he watched Damon swagger around the corner. Then he went inside and nearly collapsed onto his bed, he was so beat.

Spike fell asleep with one thought on his mind. 'If sex with Damon is always this good, he's gonna bloody ruin me for anyone else. Even Dru. Well, guess we'll see about that tonight.'

But Spike didn't get a chance to find out because…

Damon never showed that night. Nor any other.

* * *

Damon never showed because that night, on his way to the bar Spike had mentioned, he made the mistake of stepping into "Billy's" for a quick snack and drink. And that's where Lexi found him. Damon wasn't able to shake her, not that night or any other for the next six months.

Lexi was determined to get him back onto the right path, to make him feel again.

Little did she know that he'd already begun to feel again, right before she'd shown up. And Damon didn't tell her. He couldn't, for what should he have said?

Damon didn't know. He didn't know what this thing with Spike had been, why the sex had felt so great, so different, so… meaningful.

Cause that's what it had been. Meaningful.

Damon couldn't tell Lexi any of this. But he also couldn't get rid of her. For six months she tortured him with booze and women, with fun and letting loose.

Until he couldn't take it anymore.

So he did what he did best: he played her, he manipulated her and he trapped her on a rooftop in broad daylight without a ring.

Then he left her and the city behind. He had no reason to stay for he'd learned a while ago that Spike had apparently left New York. His place had been empty every time Damon had managed to dodge Lexi for a while and go there.

Spike had left. So Damon packed up his meagre belongings and within 20 minutes had everything he needed stashed inside his car.

Thunder and lightning were his only companions on his way out of New York.

* * *

**_TBC_**

_The lyrics were taken from Chris de Burgh's "Last Night", a very old song that once was a favourite of mine. I though it fit._


	3. Los Angeles, 2004

**You Again, You Forever**

**Chapter Three**

_I hope you like this chapter as much as I do, it's my favourite (even after rewriting). The setting is such that we've reached the final episode of Angel (Not Fade Away). Spike spends the last few hours before the final battle with sprouting poetry in a bar. I love that scene and the fact that he's finally given the chance to recite poetry without being laughed at._

_So here now, in my version, Spike spends his final hours not just with poetry but with Damon as well._

* * *

**_Los Angeles, 2004_**

Damon had never been one to give a shit about gossip, and especially not the kind of the demon variety. What did he care about other vampires or demons and the quarrels they had with each other? As long as he had a nice place to stay with infinitive access to humans that would keep him in blood and drinks and that would take care of the other needs he had… what did he care if the underground population suddenly decided to fight each other for dominance?

Damon didn't care.

But nevertheless he'd always kept an ear on the ground for news of trouble, just to make sure he'd be in the loop of what was going on. Wouldn't do to one day wake up and find the roof over your head burning or worse, the entire human race wiped out in one strike of crazy demons fighting each other and not caring about casualties.

If the humans ever got between the lines… well, that would leave the vampires suddenly without their walking happy meals.

And that thought wasn't so entertaining now, was it?

So, no… Damon liked to be in on the greater scheme of things while never really getting involved with anything. He didn't root for one party or another… he just liked to know what was going on.

And Damon had learned pretty soon after he'd come to Los Angeles that something seemed to always be going on here. The local demon population was way larger than any other place Damon had ever been to before. Well, apart from a small town called Sunnydale, that is.

He'd stumbled upon it a few years back and, damn, that town had really held a whole lot of nasty things that go bump in the night. Demons had been everywhere and so Damon had stayed only a couple of hours before he'd moved on.

Word had gotten out last year that the whole town had suddenly just sort of collapsed, apparently due to a giant sinkhole caused by an earthquake. And sure enough, when Damon had driven by on his way to L.A. a few weeks ago he'd found nothing but a huge crater filled with rubble where the town once had been. Not even a lonely street post had survived the disaster. All Damon had been able to make out (he'd stopped to take a glimpse over the crater's edge) had been a wrecked and battered 'Welcome to Sunnydale' sign lying on top of the debris.

Damon didn't know for sure but he figured instead of an earthquake the town had gotten what it deserved for hosting so many different kinds of demons. Sooner or later war was bound to break out amongst them, right?

You reap what you sow and all that shit.

And now Los Angeles was apparently about to reap what it had sowed over the years.

The news had reached Damon's ears through the demon grapevine only a few days ago: something was supposed to go down in L.A., something involving some kind of law firm and a group called The Senior Partners.

Words like 'Circle of the Black Thorn' – whatever crazy botany-freaks that group entailed – had fallen as well as CEO and a failed failsafe (and didn't **that **just sound really stupid). Apparently there was an angel involved in all this crazy stuff as well and, frankly speaking, it was a bit too much and Damon had spontaneously decided to pack up his things and get the hell out of Dodge.

And besides, it was high time to see how his little brother was faring in his brooding and tortured act of animal-blood-only, wasn't it?

It had been what, about 10 years since he'd last seen Stefan? Damon still shuddered at the memories of that awful Grunge look Stefan had favoured then. He just hoped his brother had by now stopped his pathetic little attempts at blending in with the human society.

Longish greasy hair, torn blue jeans and hideously coloured shirts of Nirvana, Beck or whatever stupid band had made it to the top that year, that's what Damon remembered most vividly about the last time he'd seen his little brother.

Not that he himself hadn't favoured some of the popular bands back then as well, mind you. But unlike Stefan, Damon had never stooped so low as to discard his own style in favour of supporting a rock-band by wearing their shirts, not even The Offspring (which he thought had been pretty much geniuses).

"Well, dear brother obviously doesn't have what it takes to maintain your own style no matter what's the current fashion of the year," Damon chuckled and made his way through the entrance of the seedy and dark biker-bar he'd come to frequent quite often over the last few weeks.

Although it was midday (two o'clock in the afternoon to be exact) Damon knew that he'd get a few drinks here. The place never closed, that's what he'd come to like about it. So he'd decided to enjoy the comfortable atmosphere of the bar for one last time before he'd leave L.A. for good.

He pushed through the crowd and the smoke-filled air, spotted a free space at the bar, and made his way over to lower his lean body onto a bar stool.

Thoughts still occupied by Stefan's lack of fashion-sense (or any sort of common sense) Damon ordered a Whiskey and muttered under his breath: "Little brother's far too concerned with what others think of him. He simply lacks the balls you need to pull off your own thing no matter what."

The bartender brought his drink and Damon nodded his thanks. Taking a mouthful he suddenly noticed a hand-written sign on the wall announcing 'Open-Mike-Night'.

Obviously the term 'night' was used rather loosely because Damon's vampire hearing was already being tortured by a decidedly off-key version of Linkin Park's 'Breaking The Habit' that a fat middle-aged biker was belting into the microphone.

"Great," Damon's eyes flew to the small stage and back. He sighed dramatically. "My last hours in L.A. and what do I get? Ugly bikers singing karaoke. And really badly, I might add!"

"They're not all bad, you know? And at least they have the balls to go on stage and pull off their own thing, unlike your… brother, was it? Sorry, by the way, I overheard you earlier."

Damon cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow at the woman sitting next to him. With long black hair and smoky blue eyes she wasn't too bad looking, though maybe a bit older than what he usually went for. Still, she would do. Damon wiped up his sexy smirk just like that.

"Na, it's okay. Feel free to mock my brother any time you like. You won't hear me complaining. I'm Damon by the way."

"Tracy," she replied with a smile. "So, no love lost between the two of you?"

"Let's not waste our breaths on my stupid brother, Tracy." Damon smiled and motioned for the bartender to come over again. He ordered another Whiskey for himself and a beer for her. When their drinks had arrived Damon continued: "So, Open-Mike, huh? What did I miss so far? You said they're not all bad?"

"No," Tracy shook her dark hair. "Earlier there was this hot guy, I mean really hot, sex-on-legs and dream-about-him kind of hot, you know?"

"You mean like me?" Damon used his sexy voice and did that thing with his eyes that he knew all women went crazy about.

Tracy let out a drunken giggle that just wasn't sexy for a woman in her forties and Damon had to suppress an annoyed roll of eyes.

The woman didn't notice but went on: "Ugh, yeah, just like you. But he had a voice… damn! Don't ask me what his poetry was about; I only remember one piece called 'The Wanton Folly Of Me Mum' or something like that. He could have read from a phone book for all I care, his voice was, wow… Goosebumps all over me just thinking about it."

"He read poetry?" Damon scoffed and downed his Whiskey. He wasn't the least bit interested in her anymore; any woman that got Goosebumps from listening to some guy reciting poetry wouldn't do for him. Not even as a quick afternoon snack.

Damon was about to make his more or less polite excuses (he was about to simply up and leave without another glance at her) when Tracy suddenly grabbed his arm and whispered: "Look, there! There he is, that's him!"

Damon threw a bored look over to where this supposed poetry god with the golden voice had appeared… and his jaw nearly dropped all the way to the ground.

"Spike?" Damon couldn't believe his eyes. He wouldn't! But it was true, the bleached-blond hair, the strikingly handsome features with the bluest eyes he'd ever seen in anyone but himself, the leather jacket (or was that a coat?)… it was Spike! Just as fucking gorgeous as the last time they'd met, twenty-seven years ago (and he hadn't aged a bit but, duh, neither had he, right?).

"Fucking bite me, it's really… Spike! I don't… oh fuck!"

"You know him?" Tracy gasped. "Really? Oh, please, can we go over? Introduce me? Please? I'd do anything to get to know him," she crooned like a teenage girl about to meet her favourite boy band.

Damon didn't spare her another thought. He stared through the crowded room at Spike and as if the other vampire was feeling his gaze, blue eyes suddenly turned his way and budged in immediate recognition.

Two seconds later Spike stood a hair's breaths away from Damon. "Bloody hell, it's really you again!"

The two vampires stared at each other for a silent while, each taking in the other's looks as if comparing what they saw with the memories they had of each other from decades ago.

Damon was the one to break the silence in the end.

"I see that your hair's still the same outrageous colour, too bad." He had trouble forcing the words to sound cool; the tongue in his mouth seemed to have suddenly turned into this thick dry piece of useless meat.

"Damon Salvatore, still the same old smirking devil. Bloody buggering hell, I don't believe it!"

Spike's face was split into a wide grin and his voice sounded incredulous but pleasantly so; as if he was actually happy to see the other vampire again.

Damon frowned confused. They hadn't parted on **that** friendly terms, had they? Okay, so the beating each other to a bloody pulp had somehow turned into the most intense (and not to mention satisfying) sex he'd ever had but that didn't mean that they'd become some kind of friends over it, right?

Damon simply didn't have any friends; he didn't do friends, period.

Not even the kind with benefits.

Then why were his own lips suddenly twisting upwards in a genuine smile? Why was there suddenly some kind of strange and unfamiliar… something in his chest, making him feel as if his heart was suddenly beating again?

Damon tried to turn it off. The grin, the feelings, everything.

But it seemed that his body had grown a second mind (or make that a third because Damon did think with his dick just as much as with his actual brain, so that made two already, didn't it?). The muscles in his face weren't listening to him anymore and he kept on smiling until a nervous female voice finally pulled him out of it again.

"Ugh, hi. I'm Tracy and I just wanted to… uh," the nearly forgotten woman at his side tried to get Spike's attention.

Spike sent her a brief glance but then his eyes travelled back to Damon once again. He couldn't believe it! Damon Salvatore!

An almost uncontrollable urge suddenly overtook Spike. God, he wanted to pull the vampire into a hug. 'Stupid soul,' Spike tried to squash it down quickly. He knew he was grinning like a loon but he didn't care. Hell, earlier he'd bared his soul through bits and pieces of his bloody awful poetry and had lived to tell the tale. Standing here like a bloody smiling idiot surely couldn't be worse, could it?

Suddenly there was a hand on his arm and when Spike looked down he realized that Tracy was clinging to him and had obviously been babbling on for quite a while now.

He hadn't heard a single word of it.

Spike looked up to Damon's face again.

Their eyes met over Tracy's head and Damon suddenly noticed the same annoyance he was feeling with the blathering woman mirrored in Spike's eyes. He made quick work of grabbing Tracy's arm and dragging her towards the back.

"You know what, Tracy," he whispered conspiringly. "We'll take this to where it's less crowded, huh? I can introduce you to Spike more properly without an audience and at the same time Spike and I will be able to… to share a drink."

"They serve drinks in the back?" Tracy frowned but followed Damon nevertheless.

"The best kind, designed for special people like Spike and me," Damon grinned back.

Hell, he wasn't even lying to her, was he?

Damon was about to open the backdoor when Spike appeared by his side. One hand on Damon's arm he shook his head, barely visible.

"I don't think that's such a good idea, mate." Throwing a smile at the woman hanging off Damon's other arm he went on: "No offence, luv, but I'd like to catch up with my old friend Damon alone for now. Wouldn't interest you anyway, the kind of things we'd bash our heads over."

"But…"

Both vampires ignored the woman for silently staring at each other. Damon didn't know for sure what game Spike was suddenly playing at. He'd just wanted to get the opening drinks out of the way so to speak and now Spike was… declining? Huh?

"So," Spike addressed Tracy once again. "Why don't you get yourself a cab and go home, huh? And I wouldn't linger in dark alleys too long, there's a whole lot of nasties lurking about these days."

His gaze travelled back to Damon briefly and then he shoved the girl towards the door and started pulling Damon back to the bar by his arm.

Tracy stared after them, dumbfounded at being shot down so unceremoniously, before she vanished with something that sounded to Spike like "Didn't like your stupid poetry anyway!"

Neither Damon nor Spike wasted another thought on her. Damon was too busy trying to figure out what Spike was playing at and Spike tried to come up with a plausible reason for why he'd turn down a tasty meal like that.

"Care to explain what's going on here, Spike?" Damon asked eventually.

Spike merely shrugged and sat back down at the bar. Damon followed suit. "Spike?"

"Oh please, I've known her but two seconds and she's managed to annoy the hell out of me already."

"That's why I wanted to kill her," Damon supplied, rolling his eyes as if to say 'duh'.

"Yeah, in broad daylight," Spike raised an eyebrow.

Oh, right. Damon hadn't thought about that. He was so used to walking in the sun that he'd forgotten other vampires couldn't. But then something else came to his mind, something that just didn't add up.

"There are enough shadows out back that it wouldn't have mattered, Spike."

Spike let out a sigh. "Not to you it wouldn't!"

"Huh?"

"Damon," Spike was growing tired of this rapidly. "Just give it a bloody rest, okay?"

Something in Spike's voice made Damon cock his head to the side and eye him silently. "For now," he agreed at last and turned back to the bar to order a bottle of Whiskey instead.

Something about Spike had changed, that much was clear. Damon had no idea what it was but… he'd get to the bottom of it. For now Damon would stay calm, drink his Whiskey and he'd enjoy Spike's company again.

"So you're still trailing after your little brother wherever he goes?" Spike chuckled a while later. Damon had filled him in on what he'd been up to since they'd last seen each other. "Anyone ever told you that you got serious family issues, mate?"

Damon replied with a pointed stare. "Moi? You're one to talk, Spike. Don't tell me you've given up on your favourite past-time: following Angelus and your crazy fruit basket of a Sire around like a lost puppy."

Though he hadn't seen her or had even thought about Drusilla in years Spike felt the need to defend her to Damon. "You don't get to talk about Dru like that. I know she was mad like a hatter but she was my Sire and I loved her for a very long time."

"Was?" Damon looked up. "She dead or something?"

"Na, don't think so," Spike shrugged and drained another shot. "I think I'd know. Though, last time I saw her I was actually about to stake her myself."

Damon poured them both another shot and waited for Spike to go on.

"Well, I had to prove something and I thought offing my Sire would do the trick. It didn't though, just got me a very pissed-off Slayer shutting the door right in my face."

"The Slayer?" Damon listened up. "The girl in New York?"

"What? Oh, no," Spike grinned. "That one I killed shortly after…" he suddenly stared at Damon when he remembered. "You know, after you…" he broke off again, embarrassed. He'd been about to say 'after you stood me up' but that would have sounded far too girlish, right? He wasn't a teenage girl and Damon wasn't his crush!

"Oh, about that," Damon shrugged noncommittally. He'd obviously not paid attention to Spike's almost slip-up. "Don't remind me. Worst six months of my life, that."

"How so?" Spike wanted to know but Damon seemed not very eager to tell. Instead he eyed the Whiskey bottle in front of them and let out a low chuckle.

"Do you know that this is the first time ever that we actually managed to have a drink? I've known you for almost 125 years, and we've never shared a drink before. Just punches and… you know. Never a drink."

Spike contemplated that for a while. Damon thought he looked like he was about to reply something, perhaps something like 'You don't actually know me.' And it wouldn't be a lie, would it? They didn't actually know each other that well, despite…

But then Spike shook his head, picked up his shot and leaned closer: "Well, then… let's drink on that. Finally sharing a drink."

Damon picked up his glass as well and together they drank their Whiskey. Then Spike smirked: "I still think I'm letting you off the hook too easy for when you didn't show up back then, what with not beating you up for it, you know?"

"You wanna have a go?" Damon smirked. "See if you can take me on now? But I have to tell you, I'm not on Bambi-diet like my brother, so… you'll lose anyway."

Spike seemed to contemplate the offer for a second but then Damon watched him simply shrug. "Thanks but no thanks. Not today." He picked up his Whiskey again.

'Okay, that's enough," Damon thought bewildered and stopped Spike's movement. His hand shot out and closed around the other's just when he was about to raise the shot glass.

Spike lifted his eyes to stare at Damon.

"What is wrong with you?" Damon had to voice his confusion at last.

"Huh? What are you on about?"

"You don't wanna feed, you don't wanna fight, you just… I don't know," Damon's blue eyes seemed to stare right through Spike. The blond vampire lowered his eyes.

"And the protective thing? Definitely weird!"

"What protective thing?" Spike frowned.

Damon rolled his eyes. "Telling that annoying chick to get a taxi and not to linger around dark alleys… what was that all about, huh? If I didn't know any better I'd say you were protecting her from me. Have you gone over to protecting humans now, Spike?"

Spike took in Damon's mock-horrified face and decided to talk around it for now.

"She was too old to eat anyway," he tried to shrug it off. Maybe Damon had caught on to the fact that he had changed somehow, true, but that didn't mean… They didn't know each other **that** well, right? It's not as if he had a sign glued to his forehead saying 'I'm a bloody do-gooder whitehead now, come and mock me!'. Damon didn't need to know about the soul and if Spike could help it he wouldn't.

It's not that he was ashamed of it or anything! But… Damon wouldn't get it and come tomorrow it wouldn't matter anyway, so… why bother?

"Oh, come on Spike, that's a joke, right?" Damon shook his head. "I'm sure she would have tasted perfectly fine, in fact I've enjoyed women far older than her."

When Spike didn't say anything for a while Damon eyed the vampire closely and eventually went on: "No, that's not it. You are… you look… Something's different about you, I just can't figure out exactly what. So, spill already."

Spike let out a long sigh and, downing a quick shot, shrugged eventually. "Alright, I don't know why I'm even telling you since it's none of your bloody business but… well, here's the thing. I got me my soul back and don't drink humans any more, okay?"

"What?" Damon's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. "Care to run that by me again?"

The blond vampire's chin stuck out defiantly. "Souled vamp here. No human blood. Got it? Or do you need me to paint you a bloody picture?"

"I, uh…"

It didn't happen often but Damon was seriously at a loss for words. He stared at Spike, looking up and down the lean body as if hoping to find some kind of explanation, and found none. His gaze travelled up to lock with Spike's, waiting for the smirked 'Just kidding, let's go kill something!', but when the seconds ticked by in silence Damon tried to get his shock under control long enough to finally ask: "Okay, leaving the soul thing aside for now, you didn't happen to run into my stupid brother lately, did you?"

"No, why?" Spike frowned. "From what little you let on I figured he's a right wanker and not worth knowing, so…?"

"That he is," Damon smirked but grew serious quickly again. "Then, what happened? Did you, I don't know, hit your head, fall into a coma and wake up all fuzzy and brain-addled? Decided that vegetarian was the new way to go? What?"

"No," Spike stated calmly. "I died and came back but that's got nothing to do with it. I quit the human stuff long before that."

Damon sat up straight. "You… you died?"

Spike drowned another mouthful of Whiskey before he sent Damon a smirk. "Yeah, got fried to a pile of dust by a stupid piece of jewellery around my neck while trying to save the world."

He was by now seriously enjoying the dumbfound look on Damon's face and added with a casual shrug: "I succeeded by the way, just in case you were wondering."

"You died saving the world," Damon repeated slowly.

"I did."

"While wearing jewellery?"

"Yep," Spike chuckled and then, finally taking pity on Damon, clapped him on the back and shoved the shot glass over. "It's a long story, mate. Here, drink up, you look as if you need it."

He watched Damon pick up the glass and drown the shot in one heavy gulp before he raised his glass to his lips as well. Damon had meanwhile pulled himself another shot and only when that one had gone down as well he looked at Spike again.

"You know," Damon's eyes twinkled brightly, "I like good long stories and something tells me that this one's gonna be **really** interesting." One arm propped up on the counter Damon let his jaw rest against his palm when he flashed Spike a grin. "So, you have my undivided attention here. Shoot."

Spike took in the other vampire's handsome face, his sharp features and crystal-blue eyes, and all of a sudden felt the strange but familiar attraction slam into him full-force again. 'He's bloody gorgeous', Spike thought unabashedly.

Memories of their one night in New York came rushing to the front. He remembered Damon's strong lean body pressing him down to the ground, hands groping everywhere, frantic tearing at clothes and finally, finally the feeling of naked flesh under his fingers, strong muscles flexing under his touch.

Spike pulled out of his memories when he felt his cock stir just thinking about that night more than twenty years ago. He shifted in his seat before he threw a quick glance at Damon again.

The other vampire was still waiting for him to say something, to start his epic tale of how he'd single-handedly closed the Hellmouth and had gone out in one great heroic act, only to come back from the dead by means of a sodding trinket.

It took Spike only a second to come to a decision then.

See, chances were that he was about to die tonight, right? For real this time. If he and the rest of Angel's sodding band of buggered would really go through with what they'd planned, and they would go through with it, that much was clear by now…

Well, Spike knew that they wouldn't be walking away this time. No chance in hell. After tonight the Senior Partners would throw everything they had at whoever was left standing.

This was it, Spike knew it. His last blaze of glory, his final curtain… this was it.

And Angel had told them all to go out and cease the day as if it's their last, hadn't he? Not that Spike usually did what he was told… quite the contrary, and especially if it was Peaches ordering him about.

But it was different this time, wasn't it?

This was truly the last day he had left on this earth. Earlier, when he'd thought about how to spend it, Spike had come up with three things exactly:

First: Get wasted… well, he was not quite there yet but pleasantly buzzed. So, check that.

Second: Get back in touch with your inner poet and bar that soul via words you've written a lifetime ago… been there, done that (and he'd surprisingly lived through it without humiliation). So, yeah, check the poetry as well.

And last but not least: Connect with someone in the most basic and natural of ways since the beginning of time (meaning, shag your brains out for one last time) and, well… Spike looked over to Damon again.

'If he's in, make that bloody check, alright!' he thought and a genuine smile curled his lips at the prospect. He wouldn't waste his last shag on just anybody but do it with a guy who'd left that sort of impression that got him hard just thinking about it decades after. That's clearly as good as it would get, right?

Spike's hand went to rest on Damon's knee and he gave it a light squeeze. Voice sultry he purred: "You know, Damon. Why don't we take this some place more private and comfy? I got a few hours to kill before, well, before…"

He downed another shot and then leaned close to Damon's ear. "What do you say, huh? You, me, a nice comfy bed instead of the sodden ground of Central Park, how about we fresh up the memories a bit? You up for it?"

Damon turned his head and stared into the blue eyes for a second. His own eyes darkened visibly, mirroring Spike's arousal, and he grabbed Spike's hand on his thigh and pulled it up to his groin.

"What do you think?"

"Definitely up I'd say," Spike smirked and hopped from his seat. Still holding Damon's hand in his he pulled the vampire along through the crowd and towards the backdoor of the bar.

Damon was about to ask why they'd go out though the back but then he watched Spike duck his head and sprint a few meters through broad daylight to where a shiny silver sports car with tinted windows was parked. The blond vampire threw his body inside and motioned for Damon to follow.

Taking his time strolling through the sun Damon reached the car and lazily slipped into the passenger seat.

"Bloody show-off," Spike grumbled. "You still owe me an explanation on how you do that, you know?"

"Tsk, tsk, Spike, don't be so nosy," Damon smirked. "Besides, I see you got this nifty little Viper all sun proofed and vampire-friendly, so... I like it."

"Yeah, it's the only bloody thing I ever got from Peaches," Spike shot back and started the engine. "You'd think that being the boss of the world's biggest law firm would've made him adjust a bit but no, not him, he's still the biggest bloody miser there is! Treats his employees like shit!"

"Employee?" Damon stared at Spike from the side. "You, you have a job? Seriously? You work?"

Spike threw a dark look back. "Ask me again tomorrow."

"Huh?"

"Forget it," Spike shook his head, determined not to let the mood be ruined by thinking about tomorrow. There was no point, was there?

He knew he'd not make it through the night anyway.

* * *

They'd ended up in a cheap hotel just a few blocks down the street. Damon had briefly wondered why Spike hadn't brought them back to his own place. For he had to have a place of his own somewhere around, right?

Hell, the guy had admitted to having a job for crying out loud! Surely he had a nice apartment somewhere, too. Probably with the same conveniently tinted windows the car was stacked with.

But Damon hadn't asked any further when Spike had parked the Viper in front of the first hotel they'd come across. Apartment, hotel room… what's the difference, really? It's not as if he cared one way or another.

All he'd cared about for the time being had been getting Spike out of those incredibly tight black jeans and onto a bed, naked. Or, you know, body bent over the back of a couch, sprawled out on a floor, pressed up against a wall… he'd never been picky when it had come to sex and he hadn't been now.

Damon had even put the gnawing curiosity to hear Spike's story onto the backseat of his mind.

Fuck first, listen to his heroic saving-the-world-and-dying-and-coming-back-story later, Damon's priorities had been pretty clear.

'Or maybe,' Damon thought now, right after he'd gained back enough of his senses to form a coherent thought again. 'Maybe I can get Spike to tell his tale in between two rounds? Like… now?'

Damon lifted his head off the pillow and looked down their naked bodies. All he managed to see was a blond mob of tousled hair resting on his right hipbone. The rest of the vampire lay curled up beside him, his beautiful face hidden.

"Spike?" Damon wiggled his hips to get a reaction. "How about you start telling me what the hell happened to you over the last few decades, huh?"

Without moving an inch Spike answered: "Now?"

"Sure, why not?"

Spike hoisted himself up on his elbow and rubbed one hand over his jaw. "Let a bloke get some bloody feeling back into his mouth first, okay?" He lay back down again. "I think I dislodged my jaw!"

"Well, you won't hear me saying sorry any time soon," Damon grinned and pulled his hand through the sweaty curls on Spike's head. Then he tucked with a bit of force. "And I don't remember hearing you complain before either."

"Wasn't complaining, you know? Just observing." Spike shifted a little to get out of Damon's grasp and began tracing soft patterns on the sensitive inside of Damon's thigh. "And by the way, stop pulling my hair. That hurts."

"Well, if you'd come up here I'd gladly do something else," Damon smirked but let out a hiss when Spike pinched his thigh. Then the blond vampire suddenly let go only to pounce him a second later.

"Oof," Damon groaned when Spike landed on top of him.

Spike was covering Damon from head to toe and leaned in to playfully bite the older vampire's lip. Damon grabbed Spike's head to hold him in place and returned the kiss with a hint of fangs.

Spike pulled away again. "I thought you wanted me to tell my story?"

"Later," Damon growled, hunger risen anew, and flipped them both over so that he came to rest on top of Spike again. "Right now I want you to shut up and let me do what I do best. You, enjoy the ride."

He kissed Spike again and elicited a groan in return. Well, seemed like being around for one hundred and forty years had its perks. You learned a thing or two over the years, right?

Damon swept his tongue over Spike's lower lip one last time before he pulled away again with a diabolical glint in his eyes. "You know what? I didn't mean it."

"What," Spike panted out. Another roll of Damon's hips had him bite his tongue to stop a cry from coming out. God, how the hell did he do that? Reduce him to a whimpering mass of quivering flesh with nothing but a roll of hips?

"What's that you didn't mean?" Spike ground out.

Damon's eyes flashed up. "That I want you to shut up. I think I wanna hear you scream instead. Preferably my name, but 'God' will do as well."

Spike was about to reply something flippant, something the likes of 'Bugger off, you're not gonna make me scream like some silly bint that's being deflowered! You're not **that** good'.

He was glad he hadn't said anything though because somewhere along the next few minutes or hours Spike learned that, bloody hell yes, Damon really was that good.

But, when Spike turned their positions a while later and showed him just what 'shagging your brains out and fuck you six ways to Sunday' really entailed, Damon was in no position to voice any complains either.

Damon had trouble getting his brain to form any coherent thought, let alone any complains.

Afterwards he sat with his back against the headboard, propped up on two pillows and the sheet pooling loosely around his waist, and tried to get his mouth to work again.

"That… that didn't suck, man. Not at all," he panted out although he knew he didn't need the air in his lungs.

Beside him Spike leaned over the edge of the bed and groped around for something in the pocket of his coat. He came back up with a battered pack of cigarettes, put one between his smirking lips and lightened it.

"Bloody right it didn't," he drawled then. "Though on second thought, I seem to recall quit a lot of sucking…"

His fingers trailed over his neck and collarbone down to his left nipple but Damon's sharp fangs hadn't left any bite marks there. The wounds had already closed again; just like the ones he'd left on the other's body when they'd shared the sweet and coppery taste of their borrowed blood.

"You're still smoking, I see," Damon's voice brought Spike out of his thoughts and he flashed the other vampire a brief smile.

"Actually, no. I quit a while back."

Damon threw a pointed look at the cigarette dangling from Spike's lips.

"No, I mean that," Spike shrugged. "This is but the second fag I'm having in months. Bought the pack only this morning, right after…" he let the sentence hang in mid-air when memories of this morning came back.

He'd left his apartment with Angel and Gunn while Wes had stayed to make sure Blue got patched up all right after her run-in with that bloody Hamilton guy. 'Tonight then,' Angel had nodded to them and he and Gunn had been left standing on the street, only just beginning to grasp the full meaning of what would happen tonight.

That's when Spike had bought the pack of fags and had slowly inhaled the welcoming smoke.

"After what?" Damon's voice once again pulled Spike back to the present.

"Never mind," he shrugged it off and crushed the fag on the nightstand. "It's not important. Not that anything will be anymore."

"Are you always like this, wallowing and brooding, after sex?" Damon nudged Spike's shoulder. "Because if so, then you should hand out a warning of some kind. I suddenly feel like I'm in bed with my brother!" Damon shuddered at the thought. "And that's not something I want to envision, ever!"

"I don't brood," Spike returned with determination. "I happen to think."

"Don't strain yourself too much," Damon smirked. "It'll give you wrinkles."

"You know what? You're right," Spike lifted the sheet and let his hand wander up Damon's thigh again. "Won't do me any good to think about what's to come anyway. And we have far better things to do, am I right?"

Damon slapped the vampire's hand away and, not believing what he was about to say, chuckled: "No more, Spike. Timeout."

"Timeout?" Spike raised an eyebrow and continued his ministrations under the sheets. "Doesn't feel like your prick knows something like that even exists, mate."

"I wanna hear your story," Damon took hold of Spike's hand and pulled it on top of the covers. Then his face scrunched up. "Did I really just say that? Fuck! What the hell did you do to make me sound like a pouting five-year-old?"

"Hey, wasn't me. But if you really wanna hear about my heroic act of closing the Hellmouth…"

"Hellmouth? Does that explain why you won't drink the real stuff anymore?"

Spike turned his head and threw a long look at Damon. Then he let out a sigh. "I guess I should start at the beginning, shouldn't I?"

"That would be very welcomed, yes." Damon snuggled up to Spike's side (there really was no other word for it) and waited for the other man to begin.

"Okay," Spike finally nodded. "I guess it all started with a certain Slayer."

"Oh, that one in New York?" Damon chimed in.

"Shut up and let me get on with it, will you?" Spike smacked Damon's chest. "Otherwise this will take days. So, the Slayer. Buffy."

Damon snorted at hearing the ridiculous name but shut up when he received another slap for it.

"I knew it the second I laid eyes on her for the first time, back in 1997, that she was something special. But I had no idea that she'd have the power to change my entire sorry existence. And change it she bloody did. So, me and Dru, we arrived in Sunnydale in the middle of the night and…"

* * *

"And then I said 'No you don't, but thanks for saying it' and told Buffy to get the hell out of there. She did and then the bleeding pain got too much. Organs exploded in my chest, skin burned to ash, yeah well, I got fried good and proper." Spike finished his epic tale with a casual shrug of shoulders.

"And then of course I'm suddenly back again, popping out of the trinket right in the middle of Angel's bloody office."

"Just like that?" Damon frowned.

"Yeah," Spike shrugged again. "That was last year. I've been working with Angel and his crew ever since then. And that's it."

Spike knew that he was stretching the truth somewhat here but… Damon didn't need to know all and besides, he was getting tired of talking. In fact, he was getting tired, period.

"So, Damon. How about we try to get a little shut-eye before we go for our next round?" Spike smirked and got more comfortably under the covers. "I need to be up to my full strength and…"

"Oh yeah, that you do," Damon smirked but then he got serious quickly again. "It's alright, sleep. Go on."

"What about you, you're not tired?"

"No," Damon shook his head. He was far too confused to even think about sleep now. Or anything really. His mind was simply reeling from everything he'd just learned about Spike and he was in dire need to digest everything. So many mixed feelings were floating around his head right now, not to mention twisting in his guts like snails and making their way into his chest as well.

He needed time to think.

"Okay," Spike muttered, eyes already closed. But then he opened them again. "Just one more thing, mate."

"Yeah?"

"I just, this day… with you," Spike cocked his head to the side and cuffed his elbow into Damon's side. "I guess what I mean is: Thanks."

"For what?" Damon frowned confused.

"For making me tell you. For making me think about it. My life, the things I did, decisions I made for a hundred plus years… Now I can honestly say… it was a hell of a ride and worth it all."

Damon said nothing but watched Spike close his eyes again. Within moments the blond vampire was deeply asleep.

And Damon laid there by his side, trying to sort out his confused thoughts, his confused feelings… and eventually drifted off to sleep only to dream about Spike.

* * *

Damon woke up some time later, still a little groggy and no less confused, and looked around for Spike.

He found an empty hotel room instead.

"Spike," Damon called out towards the small bathroom, briefly wondering if the blond vampire was taking a shower without him. But the slight churning in his guts already told him a different story.

What Spike had said last… it had sounded so… final. Like goodbye.

Damon knew that Spike was gone.

He sat up in bed and his eyes instantly fell onto a small white piece of paper propped up against the TV in the corner. That hadn't been there before, had it?

Damon jumped out of bed and, the neatly scribbled letter in hand, sat down on the edge again.

**_Damon,_**he read.

The word **_Dear_** was crossed out prior to his name and Damon had to smile despite the sinking feeling that had settled in his stomach. He wasn't anyone's dear anything, and Spike knew it. Damon trained his eyes on the lines again.

**_Mate, I can't tell you in person, and not because you're out like a light and sleeping like the dead sod you are just now. I've always been better with the written word instead of… well, you know. Even after a hundred plus years I'm still same old William, bloody poet at heart, I guess._**

**_Right, so… well, tonight we'll see if the sappy poet also has a bit of a fighter in him._**

**_The thing is: Tonight me and Angel and his merry band of buggered are going against some nasty demons who think of themselves as the bloody kings of evil and when we've done them in (and I'm not saying 'if' cause losing's not an option here), well… the Senior Partners are gonna throw everything they can at us after that._**

**_There's no walking away from it this time. I know that._**

**_But it's okay; I always knew I'd go down fighting._**

**_I've said that before and, well, let's just hope that I take as much of them down with me as I did in Sunnydale. Only this time there won't be any sodding piece of jewellery involved._**

**_Just me, back against the wall, all fists and fangs and no hope of the bloody cavalry coming to the rescue. That's the way I'm gonna go out tonight. My way._**

**_I know that you probably don't get it. Me fighting the good fight and being okay with going out. You don't, do you? I'm not expecting you to._**

**_I haven't forgotten what it's like without a soul, you know. And I'm not saying you should go out and get back yours. Bloody hell, mate, don't ever._**

**_I know you're not good, and why would you wanna be? But let me tell you this: you're not bad either, Damon_**_._

**_Years ago, when the Niblet was afraid she'd been made of evil and couldn't be good (don't ask, long story) I told her: 'Well, I'm not good, and I'm okay!'_**

**_So, yeah… you're okay, Damon. Don't let anyone ever tell you any different._**

**_But then, you've got more than enough balls to never doubt yourself, don't you? I should know._** **_I've got a nice view on them just now. I'd love to give them some more attention but… I've gotta go now._**

**_So, yeah… this is goodbye._**

**_There won't be any random running into each other some twenty-seven or even ninety-seven years from now. I think you're getting it but I'll say it anyway. I won't be able to make it. Not this time, not any other._**

**_And I have to admit that it sucks. It's one of the things I'm gonna miss. All those years we didn't see each other… you know, I never spared it much thought (didn't wanna write 'you' though that's what I meant), but somehow, unconsciously maybe, I always slept better knowing that you were out there somewhere. I knew one day we'd run into each other again._**

**_Well, we won't now._**

**_Do me a favour, mate, will you? Don't remember me by the bollocks I'm sprouting just now._**

**_Remember me as the first vampire you ever met since becoming one (besides your sodding brother, but as you've told me enough times, he doesn't really count now, does he?)._**

**_Remember me as the best shag you ever had (and that's not just flattery, it's the truth, isn't it? For me it is.)._**

**_Just… remember me._**

**_Spike_**

Damon let his hand sink onto the mattress and just sat there, eyes closed. Then he got up, got dressed and left the hotel just when the sun was being swallowed by heavy clouds and the first few raindrops started to fall.

An hour later he was steering his car through the thunderstorm out of the city, the windscreen wiper wheezing out its last breaths and losing the fight against the onslaught of rain.

* * *

Damon had never been one to give a shit about gossip, and especially not the kind of the demon variety. What did he care about other vampires or demons and the quarrels they had with each other?

Damon didn't care.

But when words reached his ear of a war raging in L.A., about dragons and demon-knights on horseback roaming the streets on an endless killing spree, about a strange kind of thunderstorm that lasted seven days and nights…

When the words reached his ear Damon was getting drunk at a bar on the outskirts of San Diego, 125 miles away from L.A. and on his way to Mexico, and he wiped up a smirk from somewhere inside, strained and bittersweet, and raised his drink in silent regard for the best shag he'd ever had.

"Here's to you, Spike," Damon slurred out the words before they got stuck in his throat.

The dry lump he could feel there would disappear some day, right?

Damon downed another shot and knew it would. He'd just have to wash it down with enough booze.

* * *

**TBC**

_Tissue, anyone? Sorry about the teary end but you know there's more coming, right? Not all hope is lost._


	4. Mystic Falls, 2011 Part 1

**You Again, You Forever**

**Chapter Four  
**

_This here now is just a short chapter, the introduction to the final part of Spike's and Damon's odyssey through the years. We've arrived in Mystic Fall's, it's 2011, and this is where the tricky part begins. I had to abandon canon in favour of a happy ending for the boys. And I don't do that lightly. But it couldn't be helped, so: Damon isn't really all that much in love with Elena, he's maybe a bit smitten. But nothing more. And Elena is happy with Stefan._

_Also, the last chapters were set in Spike's territory (in the Angel/Buffy verse) and I threw Damon into the setting, writing mostly from his POV. So since we're now on Damon's home turf and Spike is thrown into an unfamiliar setting, this starts with his POV for a change. And it's completely AU after… uh, I don't really know. We're definitely still in Season Two, no Klaus yet, but Elijah made a big impression. So I guess this goes AU somewhere around 2x15 "The Dinner Party".  
_

* * *

**_Mystic Falls 2011_**

The bright summer sun was just setting behind the endless trees lining the road when Spike reached the end of the woods. He rolled down the tinted window of his black car, no Desoto but a classic nevertheless, and watched the first stray buildings of the town come into view.

Then he passed something on his right that put an almost nostalgic smile onto his face. A big wooden sign reading "Enjoy your stay in Mystic Falls, founded in 1863" had been placed next to the road to announce the town's beginning. Wouldn't it be nice to simply run down the sign with his car, for old time's sake?

But then again… this wasn't Sunnydale, and besides, Spike hadn't come here with the same intentions he'd had when entering that particular town. Back then, in 1997, he'd come to Sunnydale to bag his third Slayer and to cause as much mayhem as possible.

Now things lay a bit differently.

This was Mystic Falls, very much your typical American small town, and not home of the Hellmouth hosting thousands of demons.

'Though of course I hope,' Spike thought with a smirk, 'that I'll find some vamps here after all. One in particular.'

Spike had no idea though how this particular vampire would react to seeing him again after seven years. If he were honest Spike had to admit to being a bit apprehensive. Damon had always been an unpredictable kind of guy and so Spike wasn't sure what to expect now that he was showing up on his doorstep.

Stunned shock? Furious anger? Thrilled happiness that, against all odds, he'd survived the battle in L.A.?

Not bloody likely.

Okay, maybe Damon would be the tiniest bit happy that Spike wasn't dead after all (even if he wouldn't show it). But when the first surprise had passed he'd most likely be raving mad about the fact that Spike had waited seven bloody years to let him know.

So, given the circumstances, Spike could expect a fist in his face followed by Damon's trademark sarcasm (and, worst case, a stake through his heart), right?

Damon would try to kill him on sight.

"Well, I can't blame him, can I?" Spike mused while steering his car through the streets. "That's what I would do as well if he'd suddenly show up, seven years after saying goodbye to it all with the most pathetic and not to mention hopelessly sappy letter that's ever been written. God, I hope he burned that sodding piece of crap on sight!"

Spike thought with shame back to the sentimental things he'd put into the letter. But, well, he'd been convinced he'd die that night and that these moments he'd had with Damon were to be his last. Ever. So, he'd had the right to feel a little bit sentimental back then, hadn't he? Anyone in his position would have felt the same.

Anyone but Damon, that is.

Spike couldn't imagine the self-assured vampire ever admitting anything like the things he'd voiced in his letter. Even **if** Damon had felt the same… and Spike couldn't even be sure about that, could he? All they'd ever shared had been sex – and blood. Feelings of any kind had never come into the mix.

Spike pulled out of his thoughts when the increasing traffic demanded all his attention. He'd entered the town's inner circle and had already passed several shops, cafes, two gas stations and even a movie theatre.

Those things hadn't been there before, back when he'd visited Mystic Falls for the first time. Of course they hadn't. In 1909 the town's centre had held only a handful of buildings scattered around a postal station and the city hall. The families had lived on large estates outside of town.

None of those impressive homes were standing still, Spike had already noticed that the woods seemed to have long since reclaimed their ground.

But Mystic Falls had grown significantly and Spike guessed that it wouldn't be as easy to locate one particular person as it had been a century ago. Back then the Salvatores had been one of the most important families in town and Spike hadn't had much trouble asking his way through to them.

He had no clue where the family lived nowadays, or even if there was still some family left at all. And Spike had never gotten the impression that Damon was a family kind of guy anyway. He'd never talked much about his relatives in Mystic Falls (apart from his brother but since he was a vampire as well he could be about anywhere now), so why should he have kept contact with them at all?

No, Spike deduced and pulled over at a parking lot, asking around for the Salvatore's home wouldn't likely get him anywhere. He'd have to search for Damon specifically.

And where to better start looking than at the nearest bar?

Spike got out of his car and made his way over to the 'Mystic Grill'. It looked as good as any other small town place for the locals to meet over a pint or a game of pool.

It was Friday and therefore the inside of the bar was buzzing with young folk occupying almost every booth there was. Spike shoved his way through laughing and chatting teenagers till he reached the sturdy bar. He took one of only a few spare seats at the right end and nodded briefly to the bloke next to him.

The bartender, obviously a college boy or even a mere High School kid from the looks of it, came over, a dish rag slung over his shoulder.

"What can I get you, Sir?"

Sir? Spike hadn't been called that in a very long time. He raised an eyebrow at the kid, wondering if he really looked that old, and answered: "Bourbon, neat."

"Sure, coming right up," the kid bustled away and Spike had time to take a closer look around. No Damon Salvatore in sight. Well, Spike hadn't thought it to be that easy to locate him anyway. But he realized quickly that this place wasn't quite right for someone like Damon.

The crowd was too young. Apart from two or three blokes at the bar there were nothing but kids around.

"You looking for someone in particular or are you just seizing up my students in general?"

The off-hand remark from right next to him startled Spike and for a second he simply stared at the man that had addressed him, contemplating if it had been a rather lame pick-up line or if he was perhaps looking out for someone among the kids.

Wait, students? Was he a teacher or what?

The man was definitely of the right age for it, that's for sure. He was one of the few people in here that actually looked old enough to be allowed the drink in his hand, whiskey, judging by the colour.

Spike's eyes travelled from the tumbler he now set onto the bar back to the man's roguishly handsome face, he took in the tousled dark blond hair and the scuffed five o'clock shadow, and decided there and then that he might just as well start his search for Damon with this fellow now.

Perhaps he got a lucky break and this guy knew him. Small town teachers tended to know most people, right?

Spike opened his mouth to address him but before he got a word out something suddenly buzzed from the inside of the man's jacket. Spike watched him set aside his whiskey and pull out a small cell phone. After a quick look at the display, too quick for Spike to get a glimpse as well, the man let out a groan but answered the phone nevertheless.

"What now?"

Well, Spike thought amused, certainly not his most favourite person on the other end. Spike could hear a male voice but the connection was so bad that even with his vampire hearing he couldn't make out the words.

"I'm not drowning my sorrows! I'm having a simple drink at the start of the weekend, that's all. And even if I did drown my sorrows, the last time I checked it was none of your business!"

Oh-oh, Spike chuckled inwardly at the one-sided conversation. Seemed like someone had an angry wife waiting at home, huh?

"And besides," the man continued in a dry sarcastic way. "It's not like you haven't had your fair share of that. You're a master of drowning your sorrows in whiskey, aren't you, Damon? I remember a certain time last year…"

"Damon? Bloody hell!" Spike nearly choked on his own saliva. Damon? How many people were called that? Here, in Mystic Fall's? It couldn't be a simple coincidence now, could it?

The man beside him had stopped speaking and was giving Spike a funny look right now. "Is something wrong?"

Spike shook his head, no. "Don't tell me that's Damon bloody Salvatore on the phone?"

The man raised an eyebrow in clear surprise but before he could answer a voice Spike would have recognized anywhere suddenly barked through the phone: "You've got to be kidding me! Ric, who the hell is that with you?"

A devilish smirk crossed Spike's features and quick as a lightning he snatched the phone from Ric's hand.

"Damon, old mate! Well, surprise! Guess who isn't dead after all?"

"Spike?"

Ric suddenly grabbed his phone back from Spike and quickly pressed it to his ear. "Hey, Damon…"

No answer. The line was already dead.

For a second there Alaric stared at the dead phone in his hand. Damon had hung up without another word, probably to rush over here and meet this guy that had so unceremoniously cut into their talk.

Ric threw a glance at him. He quietly observed the bleach-blond hair, the startling blue eyes in a strikingly handsome face, the black clothes that gave off an air of danger, the indefinable age anywhere between twenty and thirty… and deduced correctly: he was sitting next to a vampire.

He should have known. In a town like Mystic Falls it seemed too much to ask for a quiet Friday night. Alaric took another swig of his drink and then, before he knew what he was doing, he addressed the guy: "So, how do you know Damon?"

"Oh, we go way back, Damon and I," Spike smirked and looked Ric over once again. "What about you?"

"He's my friend," Ric stated without a thought. That got him a curiously raised eyebrow in return. "What, surprised that he's friends with a human? Or that he has any at all?"

When Spike didn't answer immediately Ric chuckled: "Yeah, me too, most of the time. I know he's a dick but…"

"Let me guess, he's your dick, right?" Spike finished for him.

"What? No," Ric nearly choked on his Whiskey. "We're not… I'm not… dude, you got that all wrong."

"If you say so," Spike clearly didn't believe him. So, determined to set things straight (pun very much intended here), Ric shuddered for good measure and added: "Seriously, it's not like that. And I think that mental picture you just painted has scarred me for life now."

"You know, I think I should be offended," came Damon's voice suddenly from behind. "And you can't tell me you've never thought about us like that, Ric. Cause I know that's a lie."

Ric swirled around on his bar stool. Damon stood directly behind him, arms crossed over his chest, and his eyes set firmly on something just by his side.

Oh right, that would be the other vampire. Spike.

Alaric leaned back and decided it would be best to simply watch the show.

And, boy, what a show he got!

* * *

**TBC**

_More is on its way, I promise. Can't make any promises that it'll be up soon though. Sorry. Be patient with me, I'm trying the best I can._


End file.
